First of His Name
by Jt 45
Summary: It was not Tommen, but another. A/U. Combines elements from ASOIAF III: A Storm of Swords (the book) and the recently aired GOT SIV EpII: The Lion and the Rose (the TV episode), so if you wish to remain unspoiled, beware of reading. One shot.


**First of His Name: A Song of Ice and Fire Fanfic**

**A/N: I only own Steffon Baratheon.**

* * *

_He knew something was very wrong when the King started coughing and would not stop. Most of the guests looked on in incomprehension, but he rose from his seat in concern. When Joffrey dropped the chalice and staggered forward, Steffon Baratheon shouted, "**Will you just stand there gaping like idiots? Help your King!"** _

_The twelve year old Prince rushed_ _forward and caught his older brother as Joffrey fell, the King's dead weight sending them both to the flagstones. Steffon landed heavily on his side. Joffrey was retching and writhing in pain. __"Joffrey!" Steffon rolled his brother onto his back and almost recoiled at the sight. The King's face was turning purple, veins bulging in his neck. He gasped desperately for air, but only a thin fearful sound issued from his windpipe. The whites of his eyes were turning red._

_The boy was unceremoniously shoved aside as his mother and uncle knelt beside them. He scrambled back to Jaime's side, reaching out to grasp Joffrey's hand. His brother reciprocated the action weakly. Blood was streaming from his nose now. Still struggling to breathe, Joffrey lifted his free hand - the hand he wore his signet ring on - to point a trembling finger. _

_Straight at Uncle Tyrion, who was lifting the discarded chalice from the floor._

**_No ..._**

_Just then, Joffrey went rigid, his hand flopping limply._

_"Joff ... Joff!" There was no response. Blank eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling of the throne room._

**_He's dead. Gods be good, he's dead._**

_Not caring a whit about the onlookers around, Steffon Baratheon laid his head on his brother's still chest and began to weep. He felt his mother's own tears on the back of his tunic as she murmered, "My son." Uncle Jaime stroked his hair gently with his flesh and blood hand, whispering, "It's going to be all right, Steffon."_

_Sniffling, the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms took one last look at Joffrey's face before reaching up to close his eyes. As he straightened his mother's harsh voice broke the deathly silence that had descended across the festivities. She glared at Uncle Tyrion. "He did this. He poisoned my son, your King." Everyone was looking at him now, even Uncle Jaime and Grandfather. "Take him!" she shouted. "Take him!" __Two guards grabbed Uncle Tyrion and marched him out of the throne room, the double doors slamming shut behind them. _

_Steffon stood slowly, eyes still on Joffrey's body. The full realization of what had just happened crashed down on him. _

_**I am King now.**_

_The thought frightened him. He was only twelve years old, too young and untrained to be King. He had been tutored in statecraft by Jon Arryn at his father's insistence, but it had lasted barely a year before Lord Jon's death. Though he had been his father's favorite son and the one who most closely resembled him except for his Lannister eyes, he was still only a second son. He would only have sat the Iron Throne if Joffrey died without heirs, and at the time of the coronation - and even more so in the last few weeks - the possibility seemed exceedingly remote._

_Now it was thrust upon him in the most terrible way possible._

_He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then another, to still his trembling hands and racing heart. **I can do this. **Calm flooded through him._

_"Steffon? Are you all right?" It was Grandfather._

_He opened his eyes and regarded Lord Tywin Lannister with a cool gaze. The old lion stared back at him, understanding slowly dawning._

_Without a word, Steffon Baratheon turned his back on all of the guests, stepped onto the dias, and climbed the steps of the Iron Throne. He sat down gingerly on the forged swords that made up the seat, high above the rest of the hall. Everyone was looking up at him, even Mother, Uncle Jaime, and Grandfather._

_The herald's voice rang out somberly. "All hail His Grace, Steffon of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."_

* * *

**A/N: In case the hints I dropped were not enough, Steffon is the only true son of Robert and Cersei. However, he does not know that his siblings are actually his half siblings. **

**As you might have guessed, this fic offers a slightly AU, unique interpretation of the Purple Wedding that extends to the rest of the ASOIAF universe as well. One day I may go back and craft the story of how Lord Stannis, Jon Arryn and Eddard Stark discover that Steffon is Robert's only true heir, Stannis and Renly rising against the Iron Throne on Steffon's behalf (though he doesn't know it, thanks to Cersei's keeping that information from him), and the effects on the North, the Riverlands, the Vale, and the Iron Islands as well. **

**First, however, I need to finish reading the books so I can understand the entire story (such as it is right now) before I go writing a full length fic. I'm a first time reader and am currently about halfway through A Feast For Crows.**


End file.
